September first comes with the usually frenzy. Frantic packing, writing letters, running up and down the stairs, trying not to step on the house-elf, screams and cries of "WHERE'S MY WAND?" or "KATE, WHERE THE BLOODY HELL IS MY PREFECT'S BADGE?" ("I don't have it." "Well, then where is it?" "I. Don't. Know. Ask Wanda, she's probably polishing it or using some other method to kiss-up to you.") The only difference is this year, I am actually in the middle of it instead of stalking around the house in my pajamas before begging them to wait so I can change and see Liana to King's Cross Station.
Finally, everything is ready, the trunks packed, Wanda bowing as we exit the house. Liana's already wearing her robes underneath a Muggle trench coat that I found in the attic, her prefect badge gleaming, and she ties my hair in a tight ponytail so I can look 'presentable' when I'm Sorted. Personally, I think I look ridiculous.
Mum 'tsks' impatiently as she offers Liana and I her arm. We travel by Side-Along Apparition – Liana doesn't learn how to do that until next year, and I am far too young to do it alone. Mum always tells us what a pain it is to have to escort us to King's Cross, but she would rather do that than (insert shudder here) Muggle transportation.
I tried hiding her wand one year just to see what she would do without being able to Apparate. She threw an absolute fit and refused to leave, so Wanda quickly found it before Liana could be too late. I never tried that again.
Apparition (disappearing in one place and then reappearing in another) is like falling off of a fifty-story building – or at least, Side-Along Apparition is. You feel like you're falling, falling faster than normal gravity would allow, and the air is compressing around you, pressing and squeezing and it feels like you can't breathe. That, or it really tickles.
We have to Apparate into a small women's bathroom that is always 'closed for maintenance'. It's not the best place to end up, but it was the best the Ministry of Magic could get us. Most wizards just ride the bus, but no, we purebloods are 'magic or die'.
Mum says sarcasm is unattractive – it's how I survive, thank you very much.
The door is locked, but Mum just taps it with her wand. Liana quickly drags her trunk out of the room and into the station, and I follow, Mum quickly shutting the door behind us and locking it with a click so no curious Muggle will walk in on a group of unsuspecting wizards.
After helping us dump our luggage and whatnot into a cart, Mum kisses Liana on the cheek, pats me on the head. "Well, I suppose I'll be going now. Have a good term."
Liana nods and starts wheeling her cart in the direction of platforms nine and ten. I stare back at my mother confusedly. "Wait, you mean you're not coming to see us off?"
"I see no reason to." The words are not supposed to cut. But they do anyway. "After all, I know what Platform Nine and Three Quarters looks like."
I swallow and nod, turning around to follow my sister, trying not to show my disappointment in my face. I can't help, though, but watch as my mother walks back in the way we came, head up, back straight. Not even looking back. I don't think she even said the words 'good-bye', or at least if she did, it wasn't to me.
Being a pureblood obviously doesn't make you any nicer than the average person, I guess.
By the time I catch up with Liana, she's already made it to Platform Nine and Ten, about to run straight into the barrier separating the two platforms (that's the only way to get into it, you know). But before she can start running, a tall boy with flaming red hair cuts her off, running straight through the barrier and onto the platform. It's nothing, really, just that the boy started first, but Liana doesn't like being stopped once she has put her mind to it, even if it's something as trivial as getting onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters first.
She abruptly turns the cart towards the rest of the boy's family, all with the same red hair. The plump woman, obviously their mother, is turning to the rest of the children, gesturing to a pair of what looks like twins. "Fred, you next."
"I'm not Fred, I'm George," One of the twins say, obviously surprised. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"
"Sorry George, dear."
"Only joking, I am Fred-"
"Excuse me."
Liana is using that voice. The poisonously syrupy one, the one that you would expect to hear on a model, well-behaved child throwing you lots of compliments with insults laced in between. Her eyes scan over the small (well, not really small. Five in all, and that's not counting that skinny boy with the dark hair and green eyes watching this little spectacle) family, taking in everything from the color of their hair to the shabbiness of the youngest boy's robes, obviously secondhand. The profile fits a family that I have often heard my father talk about at dinner, how poor they are and what a bunch of Muggle-loving blood-traitors. The Whizzbees? No, that's not it. The Weasels? No, that'd be a rather awkward surname.
The woman replies nonchalantly, "Yes? What is it?"
"I do believe that my sister and I would like to get on the platform, and if you could kindly move out the way so that we don't draw any attention from the Muggles –" Liana starts, but never finishes, as one of the twins from before interrupts her.
"Why? We were here first."
"Hush, George," The woman whispers, and the twin falls silent, although he smirks at the look of fury on my sister's face. She is used to getting her way, as am I.
"I would have thought it was obvious." There is no fake honey in Liana's voice now, only a frosty tone that could cut steel. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, wanting to help and yet not wanting to intervene. "We are purebloods. You are obviously of a lower class, so it only makes sense for us to go first."
The amused expression on their faces gives way to fury. A name pops into my head – The Weasleys. Their father works in Misuse of Magical Artifacts or something. The little girl by Mrs. Weasley's side looks a little confused at this strange turn of events, but the youngest boy's face turns about as red as his hair.
"Who're you calling a lower class, you-" The youngest boy, about my age starts, his face very pink around the ears, but his mother stops him.
"Stop it now, you're going to attract attention…" Mrs. Weasley mutters, and indeed, this little showdown is gaining us all some funny looks, including that boy with the owl, who is still staring like this is an entertaining Quidditch game he can't tear away from.
Mrs. Weasley looks at Liana, and in a tone that's just as cool as hers, says, "Fine, then, go on." She obviously thinks this isn't a battle worth fighting for, and I privately agree. It's just a platform, for Merlin's sake.
Liana nods instead of a thank-you, and pushes her cart through the barrier with a triumphant smirk. In a second, she has disappeared. I follow as quickly as I can, not looking behind me so as to avoid looking back at the Weasley family.
This doesn't stop me from hearing one of the twins tell their mother in a very loud voice, "I'll bet you five galleons that she'll be in Slytherin."
"Shh, Fred, you shouldn't judge," Their mother hisses, but I can still hear contempt behind cleverly chosen words.
Platform Nine and Three Quarters is just as I remember it last year, crowded with people. The sign above the platform reads Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Just in time, actually, we would have been earlier if Liana had chosen her battles a little more wisely.
Oh jeez, that sounds like something a Ravenclaw would say.
The crimson steam engine sends plumes of smoke directly over our heads, over the chattering of people laughing and talking and getting ready for a new year. Really, one of my earliest memories ever is of me tripping over someone's cat on the platform and splitting my chin open when I was six. I waved good-bye to Liana for the first time with tears in my eyes and a tooth knocked out.
Ah, memories.
The Weasley twins appear right behind us, but push past us without a word. As I watch them both disappear within the crowd of people, I imagine myself pulling out my wand and sending a well-aimed hex at the pair. The 'Slytherin' comment had rather stung, not because of the words, but the derision beneath it.
"Ignore them, Kate," Liana tells me. Honestly, sometimes she can be a bloody mind-reader. But it's a nice gesture, and I turn to smile gratefully at her when we are both knocked to the ground by a cart going way to fast. When we stand up, I can see the one pushing the cart is the same one that was staring at the showdown between Liana and the Weasleys, out of breath like he had taken the barrier at a run.
"S-Sorry," He stutters and holds out a hand to my sister and I. Liana shoots him a glare and gets up on her own, before looking at me. "I'll be up front with the prefects if you need me,"
She brushes past the boy and pushes her cart towards the front of the train, where a small knot of smug looking fifth years wait, all wearing the prefect badges over their robes, which they have already changed into.
I stand up on my own too, but look at the boy. "It's alright," I say, before noticing something for the first time. On the boy's forehead, nearly hidden by dark bangs, is a thin, jagged scar, looking suspiciously like a lightning bolt. "No way…"
The boy turns a little red and nervously flattens his bangs over his forehead, but I've already recognized him.
"O-oh, wow, you're Harry Potter!" I say in a fierce whisper, half stunned, half ecstatic at meeting a celebrity.
"Er…yeah." He says, backing up a little bit. I mentally bang my head against a wall. Of course he wouldn't want to talk to me after seeing that episode outside. Honestly, how much ruder could I have been?
Well, um, thanks Harry," I manage to say, and start to awkwardly push my cart away before realizing that I had thanked him for no reason at all.
Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid…
Well, unless you could thank him for the defeat of You-Know-Who. That would make sense, right?
Enter dramatic story time.
Of course, I'm sure everyone knows who You-Know-Who is, because that's why he's called You-Know-Who because you know about him. The darkest wizard of our time, whose name starts with a V and ends with a T, but we call him You-Know-Who because we don't like saying his name because you never know who might hear you and we already know his name and you never know if he might be back to do You-Know-What. You know?
Anyway, ten years ago You-Know-Who walked into a house that happened to be occupied by the Potters and their only son, Harry Potter. You-Know-Who killed Harry's parents and then tried to kill him. But something happened, and the curse rebounded on You-Know-Who, leaving Harry with only a scar shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead, and You-Know-Who just…disappeared. If I didn't know better, I'd say he died, but I mean, this is You-Know-Who we're talking about. I don't think a guy who, still to this day, the general population is afraid of saying his name, would just die like that.
Dramatic story time over.
I push my cart through the crowd, trying to find a compartment until I reach one with only a girl with bushy brown hair reading a book in it, and she's too preoccupied to notice when I push my trunk into the compartment and sit down, looking out the window where numerous students are still trying to get on. Harry Potter is being helped by those two Weasley twins, and Liana is at the front of the train, conversing excitedly with the other Slytherin prefect.
Finally, when everyone is aboard and the train begins to move, the platform slowly moving farther away until we are speeding out of sight, my stomach doing flip flops, the girl in the compartment marks her place in the book and looks at me. "Oh, hello."
I swallow and wave. So far, I've managed to piss off everyone I've met today, and I don't want that record to continue, so I decide probably keeping my mouth shut would be the best possible strategy.
"I'm Hermione Granger." The girl introduces herself, and I notice she has rather large front teeth, kind of like a beaver. I keep that to myself too.
"I'm Kate Progers. I'm a pureblood." The words spill out before I can stop them and I feel like banging my head against the window again. Stupid Mum, she always told me I ought to introduce myself like that.
However, the girl doesn't seem to mind, and she replies happily, "Oh, really? My parents are Muggles, but it must be fascinating to be raised by wizards!"
Actually, I think being raised by Muggles would be much more exciting, but I'm not allowed to say that. So, to carry on the conversation, I say the next thing that comes into my head. "Oh, so you're a Mudblood?"
Hermione's smile disappears. My face goes red, buts it's too late to take back what I've already said. "I beg your pardon?" She demands, a look of anger in her eyes.
"I-I'm sorry, I meant Muggle born," I say, quickly thinking of the politically correct term. But it's too late, and she buries herself back into her book, ignoring any more attempts at conversation.
The train flies past fields, with animals like sheep and cows and little quaint country houses. Hermione devours the book with a kind of fierceness, and I amuse myself by counting houses as fast as we can fly past them. It's a quiet ride – neither of us speak, but not the kind of companionable silence that I had expected. More like both of us are afraid of speaking for fear of upsetting the other.
Finally, just when the silence is becoming almost unbearable, the door to our compartment opens, and a tearful boy with a round face asks timidly, "Have either of you seen a toad? I've lost mine…"
We both shake our heads, and Hermione sets her book down. "I'll help you look for it," She says quickly, and practically pushes the boy out of the compartment, slamming the door behind her. An excuse to get away. Now I'm alone.
I lean my head against the window. The countryside fades to wilderness, forests with towering trees as a witch pushing a cart opens the door and smiles into the compartment. "Anything off the cart, dear?" The cart is carrying a variety of sweets that any other time I would have leapt to my feet to buy the whole lot. But my appetite has slowly been diminishing, and I don't think I can swallow a single Every Flavor Bean. I'm about to shake my head when a sudden thought occurs to me.
"I'll have six Chocolate Frogs and a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, please."
When Hermione gets back with the boy in tow (apparently the frog hunt had been unsuccessful) I toss them both a Chocolate Frog.
Hermione frowns. "What's this?"
"It's a Chocolate Frog." I reply, biting the head off of one myself and gesturing for them to sit down, hoping they'll realize this is an attempt at an olive branch. The boy sits down, but Hermione looks at me curiously before following suit. "Any luck with the frog?"
"No." The boy's face crumples. "I'll never find Trevor. He was a present from my Gran."
"I'm sure it will turn up, Neville," Hermione says soothingly, before looking at the box of Every Flavor Beans. "Do those really have every flavor?"
I nod. "My sister once gave me a vomit tasting one as a joke." Neville and Hermione's faces scrunch up in disgust, and I try to hide my smile.
Cautiously, Hermione pours a few beans onto her hand and hands the box to Neville. Picking up a small, pink one that might have be strawberry shortcake, she pops it into her mouth and immediately grimaces. "Ugh. Salmon."
Neville pours a few into his hand as well, but is stopped by the door to our compartment opening and a voice saying, "You know, they taste better when you take them by handfuls."
We all look up. It's the twins from the platform, only now they're grinning at Neville's confused expression as he attempts to put the handful of beans in his mouth.
"Oh honestly," Hermione scoffs as she pulls Neville's hand away from potential disaster. "How thick do you think we are? They're Every Flavor Beans for goodness sakes!"
One of the twins sighs dramatically. "Too bad, Fred, looks like these first years aren't fooled that easily."
"Aw, that's no fun then."
I glare at the two of them as Neville coughs, having apparently tipped two beans into his mouth that produced a revolting flavor. "Don't you have something better to do?"
The other twin, presumably Fred, nudges his twins and smirks. "Say, George, isn't it that little Slytherin princess from the platform?"
"I do believe it is."
"Where's your big sister to babysit you?"
"Put that away!" Hermione hisses as I manage to pull my wand out of my pocket and point it at one of the twins, I'm not sure which. "We'll get in trouble if you start a duel here!"
The twin looks at the wand pointing directly at his face and laughs. "You do know that until you actually learn some spells, that piece of wood is useless?"
Good point, but I'm not about to admit it. It may be a useless piece of wood, but it is very pointy and would be useful for gorging someone's eyes out (violence – the only personality trait I ever inherited from my mum).
"What do you want?" Hermione snaps finally, and they turn their attention to her, ignoring me and my wand/eye-removing-utensil completely.
"Lee Jordan's tarantula escaped," One of them, presumably George, says in a perfectly calm voice. He might just be discussing the weather. "Have you seen it?"
Neville gulps, and tucks his legs onto the seat, off the floor and away from any tarantulas. I shudder as well, but don't lower my wand. Hermione is the only one who is unfazed, and asks drily, "Is that it?"
The twins just snicker again, and reply, "Yes, Professor." Hermione's eye twitches in annoyance, but she doesn't say anything, and the twins exit. One of them, presumably Fred, tugs on my ponytail as he exits, which annoys me to the point of murder, but Hermione slams the door before I can stab anyone with my wand.
"Well, that was a huge waste of time!" She exclaims, and sits back down with a sniff. "Almost as much as seeing that ridiculous spell in the other compartment!"
"What spell?" I ask, pulling my long brown hair out of the tie that Liana put it in. I hate it when people pull on my hair. "Who was casting it?"
"Ron Weasley, I suppose their brother," Hermione replies, pouring herself some more Every Flavor Beans. "He was trying to turn his rat yellow. It didn't work, obviously."
"Rats and tarantulas," Neville mutters. "I thought we were only allowed to bring cats, owls, or toads?"
"Well, there are always going to be some troublemakers," Hermione sniffs. "And honestly Neville, they're just trying to scare you with the tarantula. I saw it when I came back, it's still in its box."
"Oh." The color seems to return to Neville's face, but he doesn't place his feet back on the floor.
I scowl. "What a bunch of boggart-brains," I say, using a term my sister Liana is fond of using. "I really hope I'm not in a house with any of those Weasleys."
"Well, I hear most families are all in one house," Hermione says thoughtfully, nibbling on a Chocolate Frog. "I hear Gryffindor is very good, of course."
"My Gran was just happy I was accepted," Neville joins the conversation. "But I know she expects me to be in Gryffindor too. I'm probably going to end up in Hufflepuff, though." He adds as a sort of an afterthought. "But I guess it's better than Slytherin."
"Better than Slytherin?" I ask, shocked. I've never heard a conversation like this before. The month before Liana was went to Hogwarts, she mostly stalked around the house, going, 'I have to be in Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin, although Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad, no, no, think Slytherin. Slytherin is the best.' And what do you know, she ended up in Slytherin, just like everyone else in my family.
"But isn't Slytherin the best?"
Hermione and Neville both look at me like I'm completely off my rocker.
"What are you talking about?" Hermione frowns, a line appearing between her eyebrows. "You do know that Slytherin has produced the most Dark Wizards than any other house, including Volde-" Neville and I wince, and Hermione quickly corrects herself. "Sorry, You-Know-Who?"
"Well, yeah, but I mean, you can't judge a barrel of eels by one eye," I shrug, using another one of my sister's quirky phrases. Neville nods in agreement, but Hermione looks confused. Typical Mudblood – I mean, Muggle Born response, so I quickly add, "And besides, my entire family is in it, and they're not bad or Dark Wizards."
Hermione still looks skeptical, but shrugs this off. "Anyway, I hear that Hogwarts is full of history. Like the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, is a genius. He was in Gryffindor, of course, and defeated the dark wizard Grindelwald, as well as discovered the twelve uses for dragon's bloo-"
"My sister says Dumbledore is mad, raving fool," I interrupt this little lesson (no doubt impressive, considering Hermione has Muggles for parents) with the truth beyond the facts.
Hermione frowns again in apparent annoyance, but surprisingly, it's Neville who speaks instead.
"'Course he is, but that's why he's brilliant," He shrugs, reaching for another Chocolate Frog. "Doesn't your sister know that?"
My throat suddenly feels very dry, and I can't respond. Hermione peers curiously at me, before suddenly saying, "You know, Kate, it seems to me you've lived in the Wizarding World your entire life without really knowing what it's like."
I distractedly rip open a Chocolate Frog and stuff it into my mouth, looking out the window at the ever changing scenery. Neville and Hermione chat lightly (or rather, Hermione rattles off a list of trivia she learned from Hogwarts, A History, and Neville half-listens) but I am silent for the minute, and for a long time after as well.
Please tell me what you think! Thanks to minerva.m1997 for reviewing! It made my day!
Mischief Managed!
